


do i owe these feelings to you

by dabblingDilettante



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Other, Romantic Comedy, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabblingDilettante/pseuds/dabblingDilettante
Summary: Claude and Edelgard forgot perhaps the most important part of dating, outside of starting.Telling your friends it happened.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Edelclaude Exchange 2020





	do i owe these feelings to you

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This is for the EdelClaude winter exchange! Merry holidays.  
> 2) Inspired in part by Kaguya-sama's romantic comedy style of two people who adore each other trying to push the other into doing romantic thing.  
> 3) this ended up longer than I intended so I'm coming back to this in the future, but I am pleased for the moment with where I ended it, even if I could continue this for quite some time.

Marriage.

The eternal expression of dedication and commitment between chosen individuals. However, it is not only the commitment – no, only the most foolhardy of individuals would think it ends there. Marriage is the ultimate moment in expressing your dedication to everyone you know. Your parents, your friends, your in-laws, your cousins twice removed, and every other stranger who hoped for a plate of free cake at the cost of waiting for your nerve wracked admonitions.

Only a fool would allow themselves into such a scenario. Any true expert in love and relationships would understand such a simple reality. Admitting your love and affection to your significant others is nothing in comparison to informing your club room and employees of such a fact.

The man, so often forced into the position of declaring his love in the midst of a public proposal, while the woman so easily blushes and brushes past the situation.

But what of the young woman, expected to walk down an aisle, covered in the expectant eyes of those who would want to know her true feelings?

“I'm just not interested in marriage,” Claude said with a light chuckle.

Edelgard laughed, awkward and fake, but Claude was distracted enough to not notice. “What a coincidence. I feel the same way.”

“Growing up, I got so sick of the idea of being given away at the alter,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Or someone proposing to me in public, as if that was romantic.”

“O-of course not,” Edelgard mumbled.

The eternal struggle of two trans college students who began dating out of mutual rivalry and respect turned affection and enjoyment – parallel annoyances that would never touch. It wasn't that Edelgard was bothered at the idea of weddings. In fact, while she had been frustrated by expectations and the idea that it was only possible to participate with a man and a woman who planned to have a child, she very much liked the idea of the fanfare. Not being the man standing and waiting doing nothing, but to be the bride stomping through the aisles, laying waste and claim to the future. The idea of people who loved each other taking rice and cake to throw at their enemies and naysayers as they sped into the sunset. What could her unpleasant uncle do or say to her if she had a dress filled with pepper spray and three extra sets of pants?

Never mind her somewhat incorrect view of weddings.

And it wasn't that Claude hated weddings, either. Indeed, he had fantasized at the thought of romantically dipping a partner into the surprise cake champagne and playing double disguise games with his fiance in the ever lasting quest of dumbfounding his friends and family. If he could have a partner who would go along with his quick change idea of ripping off a dress to reveal a suit, and then ripping off the suit to reveal a second, fluffier dress, could there be any better life available?

Unfortunately for the both of them.

While they had finally confessed their quiet admiration and fondness for one another, tiptoeing around the adamant romantical fantasies they each had, neither of the two brash leaders had figured out how to detail their every fantasy without completely embarrassing themselves.

Thus.

“Hey, Edelgard.”

The weekly debate organization had, perhaps, too many members. If Edelgard had her way, people would show up every week or be kicked out. Unfortunately, Claude was her co-president, much to her chagrin, and also unfortunately, she was soft for friends. Not that she would ever admit that.

So, given a day, any of Claude's collective friend group could be in attendance, or Edelgard's fan club as organized by Dorothea, or Sylvain dragging everyone he knew in so that he could flub his lines and laugh in the middle of debates.

Today, it was Leonie coming to tap her on the shoulder, stopping just short as Edelgard whipped around to face her.

“Yes,” said Edelgard.

Leonie took a moment to collect herself, shaking her head in some personal emotion Edelgard wasn't quite able to read, before saying, “I know that people here might be busy, but the Archery Association was looking for other clubs to fundraise with them for a coming event. They knew I knew people here, and were kinda adamant that I see if anyone would join in.”

“Is there any benefit to us?” Edelgard asked. She was prim and she was proper and she was everything a president needed to be.

“Of course there is, Miss President.” Familiar hands pressed down on her shoulders, fingers pinching inward as if the beginning of a massage. Claude grinned around her and she only barely remembered to brush him away before anything could be said. “We get to play a part with the Archers, and they owe us a favor!”

“But what favor is that meant to be?” Edelgard pulled at the edge of his shirt, nails edging at his skin, and he jumped from the ticklish chill. “We are owed a great many favors at this point, Riegan, and I fail to see how they have benefited us as of yet.”

Claude moved his arm to hang it around her shoulders, leaning on her, just short of pressing his cheek against hers. “Well, since it is meant to raise funds, we could always ask for a cut. I know you like that.”

Edelgard's lip twitched into almost a smile before she caught herself.

Leonie took her chance to interrupt. “It's a speed date night. We just need willing participants to get the ball rolling, and ...” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Alright, so my people know you guys have some pretty popular people who are also single in here, so they thought that'd be a good way to draw in some crowds.”

“Anyone in mind?” Claude said. “Who would you ask for?” Edelgard asked.

“Well,” Leonie hummed. “You two are single, right? And pretty well-known on campus. Since you're the presidents of the debate organization, why don't you two head up the speed dating?”

The scene: Claude standing with his arm thoroughly wrapped around Edelgard's shoulders. Edelgard with her fingers almost in Claude's pocket. The two of them leaning against each other, only a vague wall of self-control placed between. A thought struck both of them at the same moment.

_I never told my friends I was dating Edelgard. I never mentioned I was seeing Claude._

Edelgard and Claude looked at each other.

“Well, you see,” Claude said.

“The issue is,” Edelgard began to say.

Edelgard brushed Claude's hands away in the same moment he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“When's this happening?” “It depends on the date.”

“So you'll do it?” Leonie asked.

The two presidents realized the most difficult reality of beginning a relationship with someone you liked. But neither of them was quite willing to be the first to admit they were dating. Both of them gave a somewhat feigned smile to Leonie.

“Yes,” they said at the same time.

–

Dating – a wonderful activity for college students the world over. Even for the busiest of scholars, the chance to go out to eat with another person, hoping for a kiss, or the gentlest brush of a hand, was an exciting opportunity.

Edelgard and Claude's first date was a disaster that each were too early to, where neither of them noticed each other, as the two of them both awkwardly avoided entering the restaurant until it closed. It was only in the aftermath, as the two of them walked to the front doors that they realized what they had done to one another – and themselves.

“Did you wanna ride home?” Claude asked.

“Yes,” Edelgard said, fully knowing she was leaving her own car behind.

The two of them drove around the town aimlessly, picking up sandwiches from a gas station and fountain drinks, stopping for late night milkshakes, talking – talking. Talking. It was nice to talk. It was natural, even, both of them realized – the two had spent so much time debating and running over each other that in a space where no one else was watching, words poured out like a fountain. Midway through, the two of them had looked at each other, and Edelgard asked, terribly sure despite herself -

“Could I kiss you?”

There's a kind of dumbfounded joy in having to agree to such a thing, when the fantasy is so often the assumption that someone would simply know the right moment to kiss you.

Claude had kissed people before, but as a child, he'd imagined a kiss would simply happen because two people knew the time was right. He had spent the date up to that point sending fleeting looks at Edelgard, catching her hair in the street lights glowing, her pert smile when she spoke of her complaints about the school board and her classes. He couldn't simply stop driving to kiss her, but he couldn't be sure she even wanted to kiss him. Normally, she dated girls, and he had respected that. But she'd readily agreed to going out with him, so maybe she was bi like him. But maybe she was only agreeing because she knew he was trans. Or maybe she didn't realize he meant it as a date. Or -

But then she'd just asked.

Bright eyes and her lips barely parted, he could see the gap in her teeth.

Edelgard had just asked, and he said yes.

The moment their lips touched, security knocked on their window and asked them to leave. When Claude dropped off Edelgard, she asked for a second date.

So all in all, it was what someone could call the perfect first date.

“Do you really expect this to go smoothly?” Edelgard asked, in the far future of the present.

“Well.” Claude was hanging off Edelgard's back. Regardless of her height, she had excellent core strength and could easily carry him across campus when he decided to be lazy for cute points. It allowed him to wrap his arms around her neck and push his nose against the back of her ear. Spending most of the day trying to be somewhat normal was fine, he supposed, but this was nice. After spending a life of keeping a smart distance from other people, it was nice to be stupid for once. “Not really.”

Edelgard scoffed.

“But it'll be fun,” he said. “Besides, all we have to do is the same thing we do with each other for five minutes at a time. We've had plenty of practice.”

“I'd rather not,” she muttered. “There are things within that I'd rather the average person not know about me.”

“You're great at acting, though, El. So don't sweat it.”

Neither of them brought up the reality that neither of them had told their friends about the fact that were dating.

–

On the list of things that most of Edelgard's friends did not know about her:

  1. How many siblings she had

  2. The fact that her father was deceased

  3. The fact that it was her greatest dream to gut her father's company from the ground up

  4. The fact that she was ambidextrous

  5. That carnations were her favorite flowers

  6. How many medications she took for various mental issues she didn't go to therapy for

  7. How many board games she had

  8. The fact that she was trans

  9. That she had invited Claude to live with her

  10. That each week, she helped Claude with his testosterone shots




“I hate this part,” Claude muttered.

That list was also the average amount of things she didn't want to have to explain to each of her friends. Someone could explain that they were not intimately connected as facts, but that wasn't the point.

“It has to be done,” said Edelgard.

The point was she didn't want to have to be the one to do it.

“I know, but it sucks,” he whined.

Regardless, he still held down his boxer briefs for her to clean his glute with an alcohol wipe. Then it was18 gauge to draw up and 23 gauge to inject. The first time Claude had gotten it, he said he'd gotten the smallest needle he could and the syringe had popped on him.

“I had to do this for years, so I don't particularly care,” she said.

Edelgard hadn't needed to worry about such mistakes at first because her doctor had handled injected estradiol for her. Until she changed doctors and her new one was insistent that she didn't have to inject for the sake of her estrogen levels, at least. She pulled out the syringe and pressed a cotton ball to the site until Claude handed her a bandage to slap on the side.

“Yeah, but now you're just taking pills,” said Claude. He rubbed the site before fixing his underwear and pulling pants on. “I'm stuck with this for now.”

She dropped the needle into their disposal kit, an empty milk carton, and shrugged. “Did you want to use the patches, then? I realize you are still on your mother's insurance, but even that may not reduce the cost particularly well.”

“Stop talking about money, I'll cry.” Claude dropped a hand on her shoulder and another around her hand and rocked back and forth on his heels. “My butt already hurts and you're trying to make my heart hurt too, fair maiden.”

She scoffed, but put a hand on his waist and rocked along with him. “If I'm a fair maiden, what does that make you?”

“A dashing traveler come for a magic potion?” he said.

“That makes me sound more like a witch,” she said, leaning up to kiss him.

There were many things Claude's friends knew about him.

  1. That he was trans

  2. That he loved board games

  3. That he was left-handed

  4. That his parents were frequently abroad

  5. That he had recently moved

  6. That he took medicine for anxiety

  7. That he could ride horses

  8. That he loved gamey meat




And there were a handful they didn't know.

  1. That he was dating Edelgard

  2. That he had moved in with Edelgard

  3. That his parents were more than frequently abroad and that most of his family wasn't American

  4. That he wasn't quite happy at the idea of being a binary man and kept questioning himself

  5. That he was more depressed than he liked admitting




It wasn't like explaining that he was dating Edelgard would be revealing much new information. But those facts were close to his breast, under binders and sports bras as he waited to figure out what exactly he wanted to do for top surgery, and letting even one out felt like opening up a cave that he didn't really want open to the world.

But if he wasn't the person who said it, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

In his fantasies, Edelgard could introduce him as her partner and boyfriend, along a red carpet as everyone ate designer finger food, while he got to blush and hide his grin behind his hands, fluttering eye lashes at her as she rolled her eyes.

So if it was her that admitted it - If it was him that revealed the truth -

_I could accept that_.

–

The debate organization wasn't necessarily as productive as Edelgard might like – just as Claude had planned. The real order of business was whether they'd be able to get together the funds to attend a three-day panel on stylistic debates and training courses, considering how many new people had joined, but -

“How many people want to go,” Claude asked.

Across the room, their peers were strewn across desks, sitting backwards and on top of each other, and Edelgard would say something. If not for the fact that she was sitting on Claude, who had already chosen to sit in her chair. But it only made sense for her, as co-president, to be annoyed and sit in the chair anyway, even if it meant sitting on top of him. Most in the room raised their hands.

“How many people are willing to commit to attending,” Edelgard added.

The amount of hands lowered.

“This is a serious issue,” said Edelgard. She kicked up one leg over the other and folded her arms, leaning back into Claude. “I need to know what costs to expect. We would require hotel rooms, food, as well as the actual cost of entering the convention. This is no easy in and out issue, people! If I don't have a solid expected number, I will have to increase the direct costs to everyone actually attending rather than using club funds, and I don't want to do that because it means reducing the amount of potential attendees. So please. Consider it seriously.”

“But aren't we involved in the Archery Association's speed date thing?” It was Cyril who threw up a hand. “I get that we don't want to rush ahead or whatever, but that's bringing in extra funds anyway. If you make a huge production out of it, Edelgard, people won't wanna go anyway. So what if we waited until we can get numbers from that and then consider people's costs, and _then_ ask how many people want to attend. Cause not everyone has money to wave around.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to speak and just as quickly shut it. Claude took the hint. Sometimes it wasn't her turn to speak and she knew that.

“Thanks for the point, Cyril,” he called out, leaning around Edelgard's hair which had already begun to stick to his. “We'll go ahead and hold off, but we still want to figure out a baseline cost for the sake of figuring out a beginning in terms of how many people may go. So if everyone wants to write down their likelihood of going and what they'd be willing to put toward their own ticket for the trip, we can see what can be covered right now, and how much we may need to raise from the Speed Date thing. Sound good?”

Cyril mumbled something of an agreement. Claude was pretty good with him, usually – he'd been the reason Cyril had probably joined, after he'd harassed him about it for weeks. Edelgard was too stringent and she wanted to have the data now, but maybe the two of them were right. Claude had a smart middle ground solution and that was what she needed, sometimes, when she was ready to run forward full steam.

What Edelgard had wanted to slide toward were debate topics, truly. She wanted many of the new kids to find subjects to research and study other related debates, but with Claude's askance, everyone had stood up to scramble for scrap paper and scribble away their answers. Edelgard sighed and hopped off Claude to peer over people's shoulders.

“What do you think of this one?” Leonie asked.

“That's a horse picture or another horse picture,” Cyril said.

“I guess we should get Ingrid in here,” Annette chirped. “She's the best one to ask.”

“I'm sorry, did you say _Ingrid_ was the person to ask?” Ferdinand inserted himself into the space and the conversation. “Leonie, please allow me to examine your horse pictures.”

“What are you all discussing,” Edelgard asked witheringly.

The reality of what she'd been expecting of them was truly lost on all four of her peers. “I'm trying to find a new home screen,” Leonie said. “Dimitri said he was embarrassed by the other one, so I figured I may as well just go with horses.”

“You can't go wrong with horses,” Ferdinand said.

“Right,” Edelgard said. “Is your phone screen also a horse?”

“Why, no!” Ferdinand whipped out his phone, practically spinning it in his hands. “I have one of my favorite performers in her best role as my phone screen. Manuela is both an artist of song and acting, and I could not imagine doing anything but showing off her talent.”

Indeed, it was his favorite actress, swords in both her hands in some kind of battle dance pose. Edelgard found herself nodding despite herself. It was a good one.

Though she hadn't openly informed Ferdinand of her gender background, Ferdinand had been somewhat excited to allow some of his gender fluidity come out when he spoke of Manuela. Regardless of what he decided to do in the end, every time he brought her up, Edelgard felt somewhat pleased.

An idea struck her.

“Well, then. Cyril? Annette? What do you two use for a home screen?”

Annette showed off the confection on her screen. “Mercie and Dedue made me a cake for my birthday so I saved it to look at. It's pretty silly, but it makes me really happy!”

“Like I'd show you,” Cyril scoffed.

Edelgard smiled.

Her lock screen was an aesthetically pleasing red fabric to offset the white text, but behind that – her home screen was a happenstance photo she'd taken of Claude when he'd fallen asleep on the couch one day. She'd had the opportunity to place rabbit ears on his head and one of his hands was balled up at the side of his cheek. She looked back at Claude.

“Co-president?” she asked, more of a sing-song to her voice than she intended. “Cyril isn't wanting to participate, it appears.”

Those words made him zoom over, already hovering next to Cyril. “Oh? Watcha avoiding?”

Cyril turned red. “Listen, I just don't want to show off my home screen. Lay off, grandpa.”

“Oh, you wound me,” Claude said, feigning an arrow through the chest. Edelgard stifled a laugh. “So, what is it you've got on there that you want to hide?”

“Ferdinand? Leonie?” Edelgard glanced at them. “What would you two not want someone to see if you were hiding your phone?”

“Texts from my parents,” Leonie muttered.

“I will admit that I have been awkward about allowing people to see flirtatious messages in the past,” Ferdinand said.

“Or a background photo, maybe?” Edelgard asked.

If Claude caught on, he hadn't shown it. Cyril, though, shoved both his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, you got a crush, now? If you don't wanna tell me, maybe I could take a guess,” said Claude. “Lysithea? Or is it Ashe. Or maybe...” His eyes landed on Petra across the room.

“Shut _up_!” Cyril yelled, his voice breaking into an awkward pitch. “It's not a crush. It's nothing like that.”

“Well, if you're so sure, then why don't we show each other our phones.” When Claude pulled out his phone, Edelgard felt her heart get choked up in her throat. He was about to show it. She knew he had a picture of her for a homescreen. When he'd found out about the one she had, he'd insisted on taking the most ridiculously artistic photo of her out on the school courtyard, at the top of the stairs, in the middle of a storm. His way of payback, she supposed. But -

If he showed that off, it'd clearly bring up questions. She felt herself smile despite herself.

“Ugh,” Cyril said. “Now Edelgard's being weird too. Fine. Fine! Here.”

On Cyril's phone was a cute picture of him posing together with Petra, just as Claude had guessed. And on Claude's phone -

“Who's that person?” Annette asked. “This looks pretty cool!”

“Thanks,” Claude said with a grin. “There was this cool girl walking across campus one day in this flowing red pantsuit, and I asked her for a picture.”

He wasn't lying. But over the face or any identifying picture, he'd cleverly placed app icons to hide the truth.

“Do you know who it is?” Ferdinand asked. “I don't believe I've seen anyone who looks quite like this here.”

Because of course it had been a special outfit she'd bought just to show off to Claude, to seem cool, to seem striking, and he'd wrapped her in his arms and yelled about how cool she was, and she only wore it around him.

“Nah,” Claude said. “Oh, hey. Edelgard.” He turned to her, a mischievous smile on his face. “What's your home screen? Anything cool?”

Edelgard pulled her phone out of her pocket. She would not be bested. Feigning a massive sneeze, she threw herself over and smashed her phone against the ground. Her friends scattered around her, but she picked up her phone before anyone else could. The screen was absolutely destroyed.

“Oh,” she said. “What a shame.” Claude narrowed his eyes at her. She allowed him a slight smile in the shadow of everyone else's perception and waved. “I suppose I should step out to get a new one.”

This match was a draw. They could both see that.

–

Claude hadn't realized Edelgard would go on offensive so quickly. She came home that evening with a new phone in her hands and all the same data as before.

“Phone insurance,” she said with a smile.

“Pretty cool,” he said.

The two of them said nothing else about the situation.

“Hey,” Claude asked.

“Yes?” Edelgard looked up at him. She had laid her head in his lap, staring between him and her phone screen.

“When did you decide to get top surgery.”

She bit her lip. “I don't know that I decided it so much as it was expected of me, at the time.” She looked down at her chest. “I didn't personally care so much about that as I did other features. I was fortunate enough to begin hormone blockers as a young teen. But when the option became available, I found myself … just saying yes. I hadn't realized how pleasant an idea it was until it was right in front of me.”

“It's probably a weird thing to ask,” he said. “Considering we have opposite problems.”

“I don't believe it is.”

“Well, I mean. If you asked for my tit meat, I'd give it to you full stop. But if it wasn't going to anyone, I don't really know that I'd want all of it gone,” said Claude. He sighed. “Honestly, binding is really the only thing that harshes my vibe. But I don't hate having my body be the way it is. Honestly never did.”

She smiled. “You're an attractive young man regardless.”

“...thanks.” He wriggled out from underneath her until he could lay down with her on the couch. “When we first started dating, I thought maybe you were just dating me because you found out I was trans.”

“Well, maybe,” she said. “I will admit the idea of dating someone who was openly trans was pleasant.”

“No, I mean like … finding out I was a trans guy and thinking 'oh hey, girl lite' or whatever,” Claude muttered.

“No.” Edelgard held his face between her hands. “I would never do that. You are you. You are the person you introduced yourself as to me, in all the names and identities you prefer. I am not dating you because I am gay or bi or straight. I am dating you because you treat me as myself as well. I'm dating you because I ...” She trailed off. “Because I love you very much, Claude. It is as simple as that.”

He couldn't quite smile. It was a little hard for how much he wanted to cry. He was stupid. Stupid and he buried his face in her neck and it was nice to date someone who was shorter than him and it was nice to date someone who was stronger than him and it was nice to date someone who was stupid like he was. Unable to say the right things until suddenly it was possible. Stupid and nice.

“Love you too, El.”

She was good at taking a stab into the dark and saying the things he couldn't quite – asking the things he couldn't quite.

–

“How about a pot luck,” Claude said.

Everyone in the room pivoted from Edelgard to him. In the midst of a long discussion for a fall break socialization event, that was the one thing no one wanted to do. Be it due to a lack of a kitchen or the idea that everyone had to bring something, it was the bane of a group of college students.

“That sounds like a great idea!” said Edelgard, cheerfully enough to overpower the collective groan of the room. “Help me out with this, would you?”

Rather than drag over a chair, Claude helped lift Edelgard to his shoulder for her to perch there and begin writing on the massive white board from the top. It was, truly, completely necessary, and he could poke her ankles. That was nice.

“What is everyone willing to bring?” she called out to the room.

“What's the theme?” Annette called back.

That made Edelgard pause. She glanced down at him and silently mouthed something. It wasn't unreasonable. She'd not been exposed to many group events growing up, even if Claude still didn't know all the reasons for it.

But maybe this could be his moment.

“How about people try to bring in what they think my favorite food is?” Claude grinned. “Just think about what I might like and go from there. That's easy, right?”

“No, it's not!” Leonie leapt out of her seat. “You like pheasant and I'm not breaking the bank for this, jerk.”

“Okay, fine, no game meat, anything that can be easily obtained from your regular cheap grocer.” Claude had to stand still, his arm tight around Edelgard's thighs, to ensure she didn't slip. “Leonie, don't break the bank for me, because I will love anything you bring me.”

She scoffed. “If that's true, then why did you complain about my lunch after you stole some last time?”

“Vienna sausages are not food, Leonie.”

“But they are cheap,” she said.

“Alright,” Edelgard interrupted. “So we'll break this down into food types, then. Savory versus sweet. Meal versus snack. Breakfast versus lunch versus dessert. Is that acceptable?”

Transitioning from the club to home, Claude leaned over the island of their shared kitchen.

“Why'd you choose dessert, anyway? Normally you're the kind of person who goes for a full course dinner.”

Edelgard was not preparing her potluck dish. Instead, she was peering over directions for a microwaved pasta dish. “It's for something you like, correct? I had a good dish in mind that I felt other people wouldn't guess.”

He kept staring at her, as if something would appear on Edelgard's face, some hint of embarrassment or caginess, but she was calm and maybe even a little happy at his attention. It was his face turning red at the thought.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “It wouldn't do well for you to get a fever before the contest.”

“Who said it was a contest?” Claude asked in return, covering his mouth by pretending to scratch his nose.

Edelgard smiled. “Why wouldn't it be.”

A little strike through the heart. Edelgard wasn't an archer, even though with her arms she wouldn't make a bad start, but she'd still shot him true.

And so, given the day of the event, people filled up the room with aluminum covered dishes and some with their store-bought precooked meals. He couldn't complain. Free food was free food, so in his mind, everyone had already succeeded.

The issue was Edelgard. Even after trying to keep an eye on her, he still didn't know what she had made. Edelgard had managed to find a perfect moment when he'd stepped out to make a complete dish and he only knew she'd done anything at all due to the brown paper bag in her hand.

If Claude was going to have any chance of getting her to out their relationship, he had to know what was in that bag ahead of time. Never mind the fact he'd be seeing it in the near future.

At the center of the room was a table that had begun the occasion. When Claude walked by, his friends were already showing off the various dishes they'd made or brought. Rice and pasta were easy favorites, alongside sauces and ready to eat barbeque chicken. Sylvain had brought the 12 pack Taco Bell meal, maybe more as a joke than anything sincere. That was fine. Claude would give anything a pass, as long as it wasn't canned meat mash. Edelgard was still standing with her paper bag in hand, chatting with Petra about options for debate in other languages within and outside of the club.

“Hey.” Claude bumped a shoulder against Ferdinand. “I think Edelgard's a little busy. Do you think you could help her out while she's chatting and get her dish served at the table?”

Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. It was obvious on his face the question – _why aren't you doing that_? And it was fair – Claude was co-president specifically because he nosed his way into every issue until people conceded his ability.

“I think it'll have something preeeeetty interesting inside,” Claude said in a whisper. “I dunno about you, but Edelgard's been distracted lately. Maybe it's something pretty complicated. You don't think she's trying to show you up again, do you?”

Though Ferdinand rolled his eyes, he still shot Claude a remarkable smile. “I assure you, there is no way Edelgard will be my better in desserts.”

Maybe Ferdinand was more perceptive than Claude realized. A shot of fear ran through him, but he brushed it aside. As if anyone would believe the two of them were dating. He and Edelgard were complete opposites who always babbled against each other every meeting. It was completely reasonable for him to ask a third party to intercede.

Ferdinand said something to Edelgard that Claude couldn't quite make out, which seemed to make her laugh. But she handed over the bag and Ferdinand took it to the table without removing it from the bag. Claude frowned.

“Is this any better, your majesty?” Leonie asked with a jovial mockery in her voice.

He drew his attention back to the present and glanced at what she was trying to push in his face.

“Grilled fish?” he asked. “...What kind?”

Leonie raised her eyebrows and stared down at the food. “You know what. I didn't really ask.”

“Oh,” said Claude. “...is it good?”

She nodded with such confidence that he swiped a bite and gave her a solid thumbs up.

“You're awesome when you cook.” Claude threw a single arm around her in a hug to thump her on the back and she returned the favor. “But I don't take back what I said about the sausage.”

“It's alright,” Leonie said. “I'll just put it on your tab.”

Behind him, he heard someone ask, “Hey, Edelgard! What's this?”

Claude spun around, too late.

“Oh, this?” Edelgard had walked over to Annette, who had pulled a glass bowl from the bag. In it was a soft white substance with nuts carefully placed over the top. “It's really just a milk pudding at this point, but I had been trying to make -”

“Muhallebi,” Claude said.

Edelgard blinked at him, a smile lighting up her face. He was cursed. She'd picked one of his favorite simple desserts. “Yes, I believe it's called something like that. However, I wasn't able to find any rose water at the market I went to, so I didn't quite succeed.”

Claude had just messed up.

“How'd you know the name of it?” Annette asked, her face lighting up as well. She was always excited to find desserts she hadn't tried before. “Have you had this one before? Did you tell Edelgard?” There was a tinge of annoyance in her voice at that – as if it had been a competition for more than just his own girlfriend.

“No.” He said it quicker than he intended. “She just …” It was awkward to explain he was the one who showed it to her in the first place, or that his dad had made it for him years before, or that he'd traveled for years as a kid trying any simple confection that didn't make him complain. Too many things. So Claude said, “Edelgard made it in the past and I tried it then. It's pretty alright.”

Behind Annette, Edelgard's smile was growing more menacing by the moment.

“How did I miss this?” Annette grumbled. “I thought I had attended every meeting since I started college, so was it before I came here?” She turned to Edelgard, whose menace disappeared in an instant. “Why don't you bring in sweets more often?”

Edelgard laughed. “I don't often have the time, I suppose. Honestly, I struggle to remember when I'd made it for Claude to try in the past!” She looked over at him, too innocent to be true. “How did it go again?”

That was the game she was playing. At this point, everyone in the room was looking at them, waiting for the moment they could start getting food. It was him holding them up – Edelgard putting on the pressure by just standing at the head of the table with her hands behind her back. He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth.

“In our first year,” he lied. “She was busy trying to impress and did everything she could to get on the upperclassmen's good side.” That wasn't quite a lie. And not everyone knew about that part – Ferdinand was probably one of the few who was here for that, but to him, that was somewhat normal. “She came to me for some help and we just tried out a few recipes we saw online. I mean, how do you think the two of us became co-presidents?”

Mostly untrue, but close enough to be real. Edelgard's eyes were narrowed, but everyone in the room was going along with it, as if it made sense. Claude allowed himself to relax. At least he didn't have to fake an allergic reaction today.

He still found himself sniffling when Edelgard handed him a plate with her dessert on it. Though she had an air of defeat about her, she leaned up to his ear and whispered, “That wasn't bad.” Her lips brushed past in the barest kiss and his skin prickled into a million goosebumps.

Even though he'd won, Claude still felt like he lost as he ate away.

–

“I will not wear a dress,” said Edelgard.

Leonie had to field between the two clubs again. “They're telling me it's a strict dress code. And I know, it pisses me off too, but they're insisting it's important for the _aesthetic_ or whatever.”

Edelgard smiled. She couldn't blame Leonie for the scenario but it was simple. “Then tell them I cannot be involved in the process.

“Heyyyyy.” Claude slid in electric. “Did I hear that something was strict?”

“The Speed Date fundraiser apparently thinks that there are only men and women in attendance,” said Edelgard with a roll of her eyes. “And they believe that with an even number of such, that men wear suits and women wear dresses.”

Claude sniffled. “So there has to be an even number of dresses and suits?”

“It's more that it's a binary thing, I guess,” Leonie said. There was plenty of an apology on her face – since she was trans too, the two of them knew she didn't need to be told the problem.

“But what's deciding that binary?” asked Claude. “How can they tell who is the woman and who is the man? Is it really a decision of woman versus man when the only thing separating them is a suit and a dress?”

Leonie's expression grew mischievous. “I suppose I can't say you couldn't interpret it that way.”

“Make sure to tell them we will ensure our presence will allow one more suit and one more dress,” Edelgard said. She smiled at Claude, clear relief in the moment. “We will handle everything from there.”

Leonie did a sharp salute. “Better than me. I'm just wearing pants under a short skirt.”

At home, Edelgard immediately pulled out her crimson dress suit.

“You know,” Claude said. “That might be a suspicious pick.”

Her expression was like a dare. “I wonder why.”

She liked the look of the dress suit. It wasn't that she hated dresses or suits. As a child, Edelgard had even loved dresses. But the older she grew, the more tired she felt of the idea that she had been wedded to everything feminine and soft from the moment she had begun to transition. The space to dip her toes in was pleasant, but that wasn't what being a woman meant to her. Being a woman meant her name and the color red and sweeping her hair confidently against her enemies. Being Edelgard meant denying those who hurt her and defying those who expected the worst of her.

The dress suit was a perfect cross between. It wasn't boring as so many suits directed at men would be, and it wasn't so predictable as what a dress usually would be on a woman. It was flowing and sharp at the same time, and when she held her legs together, it could look like a skirt – the power to pretend and play was a freedom she hadn't expected as a child. Best yet, it meant no shaving her legs.

The funny thing about Claude was the fact that he _did_ shave his legs.

“Yeah, I tried stopping once, and I just got really annoyed that I couldn't touch soft legs anymore,” he had explained. “Also it means I can roll up my pant leg and rub my leg on people's faces. It's a good ice breaker.”

“You don't do that, though,” Edelgard had said.

“That you know of,” he said.

Edelgard sat on their bed while he dug through a box in the closet, until he laughed triumphantly.

“This is why you should never throw things away, kids,” he said, spinning around to show off a gold flowing garment.

“You're going to wear that?” asked Edelgard.

“I know I've been doing T for a bit now, but this should still fit just fine,” Claude said, a bit much joy in his voice. “If we're going to a party, we may as well look our best. I don't have any fun suits like yours, yet.”

He was good at making her smile. “Would you like one for the holiday season?”

“Only if it has a plunging v-neck,” said Claude.

Edelgard crossed her legs on the bed and reached out to tickle his side as he struggled out of his pants and shirt at the same time. He was wearing three layers of shirts rather than sticking with a binder.

“Probably going to have to wear a strapless bra with this one,” he muttered.

Edelgard shook her head. “Wear a jacket to hide the straps if you have to. It's honestly not worth the trouble.”

“Yeah, you're right. Could you zip up the back?”

He turned to her, but rather than do as he asked, she pulled Claude close and kissed the small of his back.

“What's that for?” There was a jitter to his voice that she liked.

“I wonder.”

She helped him finish dressing up and peered over the look. It wasn't bad, certainly. A strap ran up over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. The entire dress had a strong asymmetry, running diagonally down from his shoulder to the lower skirts. He looked nice. Beautiful. Handsome. It was hard to pick a word to describe him, sometimes.

“I like it,” murmured Edelgard.

“Yeah, you would,” he said, flicking her nose. “Should I add a tie? Or what jacket should I choose. I was thinking a letterman jacket, so I could properly roleplay the prom queen.” Claude swung a massive jacket around his shoulders, coyly looking back at her over a shoulder.

“A bowtie,” Edelgard corrected. “And perhaps, on the letterman jacket. Or if you'd like, you could borrow mine. I have quite a nice shirt underneath, so it would be fine.”

“Maybe I'll take you up on your offer.”

The night of the fundraiser wasn't any particular red carpet, with most of the participants milling around outside the building. Claude and Edelgard rolled up from opposite directions before bothering to acknowledge each other.

“Riegan,” said Edelgard.

“Hresvelg,” said Claude.

“May I have this honor?” she asked, holding out an arm.

Claude hooked his through hers and said, “Only if you let me.”

They walked up the stairs like they owned the place, completely oblivious to the way that people were watching them. There was a particular blind joy in loving someone that stopped much of the self-consciousness that would typically occur in a crowd.


End file.
